


Mirror Images

by TempleCloud



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempleCloud/pseuds/TempleCloud
Summary: On her day off from working as the Duke Orsino's page, Viola goes to visit her sea-captain friend - only to discover that he has been arrested. But he is not the only one being unjustly imprisoned...
Relationships: Antonio/Sebastian (Twelfth Night), Malvolio/Olivia (Twelfth Night), Maria/Sir Toby Belch, Olivia/Sebastian (Twelfth Night), Olivia/Viola | Cesario (Twelfth Night), Orsino/Viola | Cesario (Twelfth Night)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

This mustn’t go on any longer, Viola decided. She couldn’t leave Countess Olivia pining for Cesario, who didn’t even exist, and Orsino ( _the DUKE – don’t let yourself think of him as Orsino – no, it’s Orsino I care about_ ) with no chance of winning Olivia while she was in love with Cesario. On the other hand, what else could she do? Put a dress on, go to the Countess as herself, Viola, and ask to be taken on as a lady-in-waiting? Put up with having the Countess’s grouchy steward as her boss? 

Well, maybe Malvolio wasn’t too bad to underlings who were sober and hard-working. She couldn’t blame him for being unfriendly to ‘Cesario’ when he was under orders not to admit any visitors. But she couldn’t imagine being happy working under Malvolio, becoming friends, the way she was friends here with the Duke’s other servants, like Valentine and Curio – and with Orsino himself. Well, as far as she could be friends with people she couldn’t tell the truth to, anyway. She needed to talk to a friend who already knew the truth.

She remembered Captain Francisco, the last person who had addressed her as ‘lady’: ‘ _This is Illyria, lady._ ’ She heard her own voice, unable to resist punning, even after (or because of) the shipwreck and Sebastian’s death, ‘ _And what should I do in Illyria? My brother, he is in Elysium, and I am cast ashore to seek asylum._ ’ To which Francisco had capped the pun: ‘ _Seeking a madhouse? Welcome to my country!_ ’

‘Well, lad, have you got any plans for your day off?’ The Duke’s voice broke through her thoughts. ‘Going to see your girlfriend?’

Viola mentally groaned, remembering that she had invented a girlfriend as protective colouring. Why hadn’t she stuck to her original plan of claiming to be a eunuch? No, wait – when she first arrived, she _had_ claimed to be a eunuch, and Orsino had absent-mindedly said, ‘Oh, hard luck – still, you’re being saved a lot of trouble, believe me,’ and gone into eulogies about his unquenchable, undying, unrequited love for Olivia, and eventually broken off to ask, ‘And what about you? Do you have a girlfriend yet?’ She had got used to his not listening. After all, Orsino never even listened to himself, so there was no point in expecting him to listen to anyone else. Somehow, knowing this just made her feel even fonder of him, rather than irritated.

‘I don’t have a girlfriend, my lord,’ she explained. ‘I’m in love with someone who’s in love with someone else.’

‘Oh? Well, she’ll come round, I expect. It’s the prerogative of women to change their minds, after all.’

‘Yes, my lord, but I’m not sure they use that right very often. I’ve always found that they can’t help being in love with the same person, even when it’s hopeless, and can’t help _not_ loving someone who’s in love with them. Though we men are much the same, I suppose – except that we’re usually too oblivious even to notice if someone is in love with us.’

The Duke laughed, stroking her short hair as if she was a favourite hound. ‘“We men” indeed! You’re scarcely more than a boy, yet! Well, have a good day, and I’ll see you this evening.’

Viola hurried to the Elephant Inn. Would Francisco still be there? Or had his ship had to set sail by now? Or would he have gone home to visit his family? His parents lived not far away, after all.

No, surely he’d have stayed in town, in case there was an emergency. Francisco had been a good friend of her father, and had watched over her and Sebastian like a loving uncle ever since Papa died. And now that Sebastian was probably dead ( _dead, admit it – no, PROBABLY dead_ ), that left just her. And Francisco had arranged to hide Viola’s dress (the one dress she now owned, as everything else had gone down with the shipwreck), along with her jewellery and any personal items that could prove who she was (and even her long golden hair when she’d cut it off). She might need them back, now. But mainly, she just needed Francisco as a friend she could discuss things with, the way she’d discuss them with Sebastian, if he was still ali- still here.

The young woman on the reception desk at the Elephant furrowed her brow in surprise. ‘Captain Francisco? No, I’d have thought you’d have heard. He was taken off to prison yesterday.’

‘ _Prison?_ Where? Why?’

‘Dunno – piracy, I’d think, wouldn’t you? You can’t trust these foreign sailors, they’re all the same.’

‘What? Francisco’s from here!’ Viola hoped she wasn’t letting her own Italian accent show through. ‘And he’s an honest merchant, not a pirate. They must be getting him mixed up with someone else!’

‘Tell that to the Watch, not me.’

‘I’m going to,’ said Viola grimly, as she strode off.

The guard on duty outside the Watch house wasn’t disposed to be helpful either. ‘We’re not supposed to tell anyone what he’s charged with,’ he said. ‘Not even him. We’re still investigating. Anyway, it’s nothing a young lad like you would want to know about.’

Oh, really? Young boys generally wanted to know all about violent crime, especially if it was suitably swashbuckling. Viola knew that most people took her for about fourteen, rather than the seventeen she actually was. Now to see if she could pass for eleven.

‘Is he a _pirate,_ sir?’ she asked with interest. ‘I wanted to be a pirate, but my mum made me get a job as a page-boy so I’d be nearer home.’

‘It’s a bit nastier than that, lad,’ said the guard gently. ‘He’s supposed to have murdered a young lady,’ he whispered, after checking that nobody was eavesdropping. ‘Someone saw him hiding the body. A young lady with lots of long blonde hair, they said.’

‘ _Who_ said?’ retorted Viola, forcing herself to whisper in return. ‘Anyway, it’s not true! Captain Francisco would never do anything like that! Where’s this “body” supposed to be hidden, anyway?’

‘We-ell, it’s just investigation,’ the guard said. ‘Probably nothing to it. I mean, we didn’t have time to talk to the witness for long yesterday, and today, we heard he’d been taken ill. So it could be that he’d already been – seeing things, before the Countess Olivia noticed there was anything wrong with him.’

‘The witness was one of Countess Olivia’s family? That uncle of hers would see _anything_ , after a few pints of sherry!’

‘No, not one of the family. Anyway, it’s none of your business. Run off and play, can’t you?’

So, it was one of the Countess’s servants who had seen Francisco hiding a dress and a mass of cut-off hair. Feste, the jester? He seemed to have eyes everywhere, and he came and went as easily as a stray cat between the Countess’s house, Duke Orsino’s house, the pubs and clubs, and the surrounding countryside. Viola wasn’t sure whether he was officially a member of anyone’s household. He had claimed to live in a house next to a church, but that had probably been just a joke. 

On the other hand, Feste loved knowing things that other people didn’t, so he didn’t seem the type to catch a glimpse of something and then run to the Watch without checking for himself. He had dropped several hints that he knew Viola was a woman, so he would probably have guessed what was really going on, instead of mistakenly assuming that Francisco was a murderer. Could he be doing this on purpose, to blackmail them? Why would do that? Viola hadn’t had time to earn much money yet, and Francisco didn’t have access to his while he was locked up. Besides, Feste was charming enough to wheedle money out of everyone, without needing to resort to crime.

At any rate, she needed to go to Countess Olivia’s house to try to clear the matter up. Feste, or whoever it was, might not be well enough to walk over to the Watch House and discuss the case, but if he wasn’t actually asleep, Olivia probably wouldn’t mind letting her in for a few minutes of quiet conversation.

Before she even arrived at the main house, she could hear voices coming from an odd, windowless stone building in a distant corner of the garden. Nobody knew why it had been built. It was called a folly, which seemed appropriate enough for Illyria.

The Countess’s maid Maria, and the tall, goofy young Englishman whom Viola had sometimes seen hanging around with the Countess’s uncle Sir Toby, were hiding in the shrubbery, while Feste was wearing a huge false beard, and talking in a peculiar voice to the stone building. ‘Vell, how is Malvolio zis mornink feelink? Are ve still ze hallucinations havink?’

‘They’re _not_ hallucinations!’ snapped Malvolio’s voice from inside the building. ‘My lady the Countess sent me a letter with some instructions in, and when I obeyed them…’

‘Hmmm, interestink. Zis “lady”, does she you of your muzzer you remind?’

‘What? No, of course not! She tricked me – she was doing it all to make fun of me…’ Malvolio sounded as if he was struggling not to burst into tears.

‘Hmmm, paranoia as vell as hallucinations? Tell me, haf you any younger bruzzers or sisters? Ven vere zey born? How long did your muzzer you breast-feed?’

‘Mind your own business! Have you brought people here? I can hear someone giggling! Two someones, at least!’

‘Still ze hallucinations,’ said Feste sadly. ‘If zere no progress soon is, must ve ze lightning shocks use.’

‘ _LIGHTNING SHOCKS?!_ ’ roared Malvolio, trying to sound more outraged than terrified.


	2. Chapter 2

Feste gestured to the others to move away. Viola managed to stay out of sight until they had made their way up towards the house. Yes, she decided now. Feste certainly could be vindictive enough to get someone locked up just for the fun of it. She still wasn’t sure why he was wearing a false beard when Malvolio obviously couldn’t see him and had no idea who he was, but that wasn’t important. How _dare_ they treat Malvolio like that? Viola didn’t like him, but Francisco wasn’t the only prisoner in need of rescue.

‘Malvolio?’ she said gently, when she was confident that everyone else had left.

‘Not you as well!’ growled Malvolio. ‘Come to gloat over me, have you?’

‘No, not at all. I – I heard those villains taunting you, and I hoped I might be able to get you freed.’

‘Who are you? You’re the Duke’s serving-man, aren’t you? Cesario? Or aren’t you?’

Viola realised she hadn’t been making her usual effort to sound gruff and masculine, while she was trying to reassure Malvolio. And after all, Malvolio had no reason to trust Cesario, the impudent page-boy who had pushed past him, insisting on speaking to the Countess in person – and whom he had probably realised Olivia had a crush on.

‘I’m not a man!’ she exclaimed. ‘Do I sound like one?’ 

‘Uh – no,’ Malvolio admitted. ‘It’s so confusing in here – I thought you sounded like…’ He tailed off, embarrassed.

‘I do know Cesario,’ Viola admitted. ‘I’m a servant at the Duke’s palace. And – if you could explain to me what’s going on, I could tell Cesario, and he might have enough influence with the Countess to sort things out.’

‘What’s going on is that everyone keeps lying to me and making fun of me!’ snapped Malvolio. ‘The Countess sent me a proposal of marriage – oh, I daresay you’ll say I was stupid to believe she was serious, but aristocrats _do_ sometimes fall in love with servants…’

‘I know they do,’ said Viola. ‘But it doesn’t happen as often as we’d like – and I do know how it feels to love someone above my station. But I’ve realised that the best I can do is to serve my master faithfully, and hope for his sake that he finds a good wife, instead of convincing myself that one day he’ll notice me as a woman rather than just as a servant.’

‘It’s hardly the same thing!’ objected Malvolio. ‘I’m the head of the Countess Olivia’s staff, not some – kitchen maid!’

‘Have you worked for the Countess long?’

‘She’s been the head of the household this past year, since her brother died,’ said Malvolio. ‘But I’ve worked for the family for thirty years. I started as a boot-boy, but I’d worked my way up to footman by the time little Olivia was born.’

‘So you’ve known her all her life,’ Viola said. ‘Is she the sort of person who’d make fun of you, pretending to be in love with you when she isn’t serious?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought it of her,’ Malvolio admitted, ‘but she did. She told me to wear yellow stockings cross-gartered, and smile, and assert myself and talk down to Sir Toby as a true count should, and when I did all that, she pretended to think I was mad, and had me locked up. She had been – behaving strangely lately. I don’t know – maybe _she’s_ the one who’s going mad?’ He sounded even more alarmed by this prospect than by being treated as insane himself.

‘Not seriously mad, but I think she is going through a difficult time,’ Viola agreed. ‘Cesario said said she seemed to be a bit emotional and finding it hard to concentrate – but then, with her father and then her brother dying, that’s hardly surprising. I’m an orphan myself, and I know how it feels. But – do you really think she’s off-balance enough to have a faithful servant locked up for no reason?’

‘Maybe not,’ Malvolio admitted.

‘And do you know that the letter was definitely from her?’ Viola asked. ‘Did you see her write it?’

‘Well, no, but – it was sealed with her seal, and it looked like her handwriting, with a nice X and lots of beautiful great long Fs.’

‘So it was written either by her, or by someone who has similar handwriting and has access to her stationery,’ said Viola. ‘Now, I know that – person claiming to be a doctor earlier was pretending to think you were paranoid, and if you go on insisting that _everyone’s_ out to get you, you’ll play into his hands. But it’s fairly obvious that _someone_ is out to get you. So, do you have any enemies that you know of?’

Malvolio considered. ‘Well, there’s Feste. He sulks if I don’t laugh at his jokes. And Fabian; I had to punish him quite severely for attending a bear-baiting – not half as severely as that poor bear was being punished just for being a bear! – and he’s been angry with me ever since. And Maria – I’ve had to warn her about being too friendly with the Countess’s uncle Sir Toby, and some of the degenerates he brings round to the house, like that young English twit he brought here with some hope of wooing the Countess. And I’ve got my suspicions about Cesario – I’m sorry, I know he’s a friend of yours, but we can’t rule him out. If he’s hoping to marry the Countess himself, and sees me as a rival…’

‘Not Cesario,’ said Viola firmly. ‘He did tell me he’d had trouble with some grumpy servant of the Countess who tried to stop him getting in, but that was just him being loyal to his master, as you are loyal to yours, like two soldiers with no reason to hate each other battling because their kings are at war. But that’s at least three enemies you’ve identified. Are there any others that you know of?’

‘Well, Sir Toby’s never liked me, I know that,’ said Malvolio. ‘Not that I’ve ever liked him, either. He was a drunken wastrel when I first came here, and he’s just grown worse over the years. He doesn’t seem to have any interests in life except drinking his way through the best wine in the cellars and playing practical jokes. I don’t think he’d be clever enough to forge a letter, though. His hands shake when he’s sober, and he wouldn’t be able to concentrate long enough when he’s drunk.’

‘So, he might have wanted to play a trick on you, but he’d have needed someone brighter, like Maria or Feste, to work out the details,’ said Viola. ‘Well, I’ll ask Cesario to have a word with the Countess, and try to get you released.’

There was a silence, and then Malvolio said stiffly and quietly, as if he wasn’t sure how to pronounce the words, ‘Thank you.’

As Viola turned to set off towards the house, she realised that she had not been alone. The gangly young Englishman in the yellow velvet waistcoat had now crept back to observe from a distance, and had been holding his hands over his mouth to suppress further giggling. ‘I say, good show!’ he whispered, as Viola approached him. ‘You really did sound like a girl, you know, making your voice all high like that. You’re an awfully good actor.’

‘I wasn’t lying,’ said Viola. ‘It’s true that I’m – not exactly a man.’

‘Well, I suppose not – you can’t be more than what, fourteen? Fifteen maybe? You don’t even have a beard yet.’ He ran a finger over his own wispy moustache.

‘I’m seventeen,’ Viola pointed out. ‘I’m never going to have a beard. Let’s just say there’s a reason I’m such a good singer.’

‘You’re – I say!’ The young man winced, instinctively moving his hands as if to shield his own groin.

‘Yes.’

‘Did it – hurt a lot?’ he asked sympathetically.

Viola wasn’t sure she could bear this much misplaced sympathy, especially from someone who _should_ be sorry for Malvolio and wasn’t. ‘I wasn’t cut,’ she explained. ‘I was just born this way. Some people are.’

‘I suppose so – oh, yes!’ he exclaimed, remembering something. ‘Did Toby give you my letter?’

‘What letter?’

‘I’m supposed to challenge you to a duet – I mean, to a duel.’

‘What? Why?’

‘For Olivia’s hand in marriage.’

‘But you know I’m not courting her,’ Viola pointed out.

‘Well, uh, no, I suppose not, if your kind can’t fall in love…’

‘I’m afraid we can,’ Viola admitted. ‘We just aren’t in a position to do anything about it. There _is_ someone I’m in love with, but not the Countess. But that isn’t the point. Do you really think the Countess Olivia is going to be impressed with you if you challenge the Duke’s servants to duels?’

‘Toby said that was why she was fussing over you so much,’ said the man. ‘He said she was doing it to make me jealous, so that I’d show myself to be a proper knight by fighting you.’

‘And is that what _you_ think?’ Viola asked. ‘From what you’ve seen of the Countess so far?’

‘Well, I – I don’t really know,’ the young knight admitted. ‘She doesn’t really talk to me, much. But Toby says she likes me. I thought maybe he could talk her round a bit, but he’s been jolly busy lately, what with getting Maria to write that letter to Malvolio, and bringing my letter to you, and everything.’

 _He can’t work it out, even when all the puzzle pieces are right in front of him,_ Viola realised. _Malvolio is not the only victim here._ ‘You know Malvolio said Sir Toby is only tricking you into thinking the Countess is interested in you?’ she said gently.

‘Well, what would he know? He’s only a servant, after all!’

‘And you know that Sir Toby and Maria are tricking Malvolio into thinking the Countess is interested in him?’

‘Yes, but that’s different – that’s just a prank!’

‘You know,’ Viola said, ‘you could be a really nice boy. You aren’t particularly clever, but you’re friendly and caring when you’re not challenging people to duels. But you’re not going to learn to be a good person as long as you hang around with spiteful bullies, and help them victimise anyone who’s annoyed them in any way, because you’re afraid of not fitting in if you complain. And people who treat other people like that can just as easily treat you the same way.’

‘I say! If you talk like that about Toby, I really _will_ fight you! He’s my friend!’

‘Maybe you need better friends,’ suggested Viola. ‘Anyway, I need to go and speak to the Countess now, if you’ll let me be on my way.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ offered the young knight, after thinking about it for a moment. ‘I ought to be brave enough to own up, at least. It’s the only decent thing I’ve done since I came here.’

They set off towards the house. Before they were in view of it, they overheard voices from behind yet another hedge. ‘Oh, don’t be deceived just because he’s not a soldier,’ came Sir Toby’s voice, rich, overconfident, full of playful malice, and, as usual, slurred with alcohol. ‘He’s a terror – had to flee here because the Queen of England sentenced him to death for duelling. Believe me, you don’t want to fight against Sir Andrew Aguecheek.’

‘Well, of course I don’t – I’ve never heard of him and I’ve got no reason to fight him!’ retorted a voice that made Viola catch her breath with joy. ‘But if he wants a fight, I’ll give him one.’

‘He’s challenging you because you’ve been coming here too often and alienating the affections of my niece,’ persisted Sir Toby.

‘You’re mad! I’ve never been here before in my life – I only called in because my friend has gone missing and I wondered whether anyone knew what had happened to him. I don’t even know who your niece is.’

‘Who’s that?’ whispered the young knight – presumably Sir Andrew Aguecheek – to Viola. ‘He sounds like you.’

‘My brother,’ whispered Viola. She was too astonished to say more. She had wanted to believe that Sebastian had somehow survived, but she knew he wasn’t as good a swimmer as she was, and that it was only wishful thinking to believe he had a chance. Or was this his ghost?

She and Sir Andrew peered through the hedge, trying to make out what was going on. Viola knew that she and Sebastian weren’t actually identical twins, but people had always said they looked very similar, and now that she had short hair, she could see how Sir Toby might have mistaken Sebastian for her. While she was still wondering whether to risk going up to Sebastian and hugging him, or whether he was just an illusion that would vanish into thin air, the Countess Olivia emerged from the house.

‘Toby!’ she called indignantly. ‘Are you teasing our guest?’

‘What? Uh – of course not!’

‘He’d got it into his head that I’d been coming here before, trying to court his niece, and made his friend jealous,’ Sebastian explained. ‘I pointed out that I’d never even met his niece, but…’

‘Well, strictly speaking, I’m Toby’s cousin, but he’s always called me “niece”,’ said Olivia. ‘But are you all right, Cesario, darling? You’re not hurt, are you?’

‘I’m not hurt, and I’m not Cesario,’ pointed out Sebastian. ‘But I wouldn’t mind being your darling,’ he added.

‘Did you hit him on the head?’ Olivia suspiciously asked her cousin/uncle/whatever.

‘No!’ retorted Sir Toby indignantly.

‘No, but he was telling me about his friend who wanted to fight me – some big English thug called Sir Andrew Aguecheek who had to flee from England because he’s wanted for killing three men in duels,’ said Sebastian.

Olivia laughed. ‘Oh, he was only pulling your leg! Sir Andrew is a rich, gullible twit, but he’s far too timid to get into a fight with anyone, let alone kill them. But now – can you remember what happened before you came here and met Toby?’

‘Yes, I was shipwrecked here a couple of months ago. I nearly drowned, and a sea-captain called Antonio found me and nursed me back to health. We’ve been staying in the country, but today I wanted to explore the town, and Antonio said he’d stay out of the way because there were – people he wanted to avoid. But when I came back to meet him for lunch, he was nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just been asking around to see whether anyone had seen him.’

‘So – you don’t remember working for the Duke?’

‘No. I remember my father saying this country was ruled by a Duke called Orsino, but that’s all.’

‘I think you’re a bit confused,’ said Olivia. ‘You’re talking as if you’ve never been here before – as if all this is a dream.’

‘Life is a dream, and you are the most beautiful dream of all!’ declared Sebastian, throwing wide his arms with a dramatic gesture that would have made Viola burst out laughing, if she wasn’t so apprehensive about all the misunderstandings.

‘Then will you marry me?’

‘Of course, if you’ll help me look for Antonio afterwards,’ said Sebastian, smiling. After all, he was presumably thinking, if this was only a dream, nothing he did could have long-term consequences.


	3. Chapter 3

‘Sebastian, stop it!’ said Viola sharply, stepping forward. ‘You can’t get married to a stranger who’s mistaken you for someone else. And, my lady, if you’ll excuse the impertinence,’ (after all, she mustn’t forget that she was a servant here, even if she had been a lady back home in Italy), ‘I don’t think it’s right to get married to someone who doesn’t know who you are. Countess, may I introduce my brother Sebastian? Sebastian, this is the Countess Olivia.’

‘But I don’t have a…’ Sebastian began, and then broke off, staring at her incredulously.

‘Do you remember the farce Papa took us to see, for our twelfth birthday?’ said Viola. ‘Two pairs of twins separated at birth?’

‘And I kept laughing because it was so silly…’

‘And I cried for the two servant-brothers who kept being beaten for obeying the wrong orders?’

‘You cried when one of the master-brothers was locked up when people thought he’d gone mad, too,’ pointed out Sebastian.

‘And at the end I cried for joy when everything turned out all right after all, and you said, “What, did you think they _wouldn’t_ all get a happy-ever-after?”’

‘And then for our thirteenth birthday, we were going to see _The Merchant and the Money-Lender_ …’ Sebastian continued.

‘But we never got to go, because Papa died.’

‘And Francisco promised he’d look after us and be a father to us – is he all right?’ Sebastian asked, suddenly concerned.

‘He’s alive, but he’s in prison,’ said Viola. ‘When I – had to change into suitable clothes for this place, someone saw Francisco hiding my other clothes, and thought – or claimed to the Watch that they’d thought – that he was burying a murdered body. From something I overheard at the Watch House, I thought that Olivia’s steward Malvolio might know something about it.’

‘Well, maybe, but I’m afraid he isn’t in any state to answer questions at the moment, poor man,’ said Olivia.

‘I was talking to him a few minutes ago, and he seemed perfectly lucid then – just indignant at being locked up,’ said Viola. ‘Actually, Sir Andrew Aguecheek might know a bit more about that,’ she added loudly as a cue.

Sir Andrew emerged from the shrubbery, his head hanging low. ‘Uh – we sent him a letter from you only really it was from Maria, saying you were in love with him and wanted to marry him,’ he mumbled. ‘It was Maria who thought of it – not my idea at all,’ he added hastily.

‘No, you don’t have many ideas, do you?’ sighed Olivia. ‘Toby, were you in on this as well?’

‘He deserved it!’ retorted Sir Toby.

‘Really?’ asked Olivia sharply. ‘What crime had he committed? Telling you to stop having noisy parties in the middle of the night that keep everyone awake?’

Sir Toby struggled for a moment to think of a reply, and then settled on: ‘Well, if a servant like him was conceited enough to believe he could marry an aristocrat, he deserves it.’

‘You asked Maria to marry you,’ Sir Andrew pointed out. ‘Aren’t you going to marry her after all?’

‘Already have done,’ said Sir Toby smugly, indicating a ring on his left hand. ‘But that’s different.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Maria’s clever and funny and she’s made me the happiest man in Illyria, that’s why! Prats like Malvolio deserve to be tricked, if they’re stupid enough to fall for it.’

‘You kept telling me Olivia wanted to marry me, too,’ said Sir Andrew. ‘And you’ve kept borrowing money off me and never paid any of it back, and now I’ve had a letter from my father saying he’s cutting off my allowance until I explain to him what I’ve been spending it all on. Uh – you couldn’t pay some of it back now, could you?’

‘’Fraid not. Spent it all on booking the honeymoon.’

‘So – you tricked me, too. And I thought we were friends! Did you think I deserved it, too?’

‘Of course,’ said Sir Toby cheerfully. ‘Anyway, I haven’t got time for this now. Maria and I need to be off.’ And with that, he swaggered away.

Sir Andrew stood, looking as if he was trying not to cry.

‘However much you lost, it was probably worth it to lose a friend like that,’ Viola said encouragingly.

‘But – but I don’t have _anything_ left! I can’t even afford to catch a ship home!’

‘Sebastian and I lost everything, too, when we were shipwrecked,’ said Viola. ‘You’re just another castaway, like us. You might have to pawn some of your clothes and jewellery until you can find a job and start earning some wages, but it’s not too bad.’

They walked back to the stone folly, Viola and Sir Andrew leading the way, and Olivia and Sebastian following, holding hands. ‘Malvolio?’ Olivia called.

‘Are you really the Countess, or someone else pretending to be her to see how I’ll react?’ growled Malvolio.

‘I’m really Olivia,’ said Olivia. ‘Sir Toby and Sir Andrew confessed what they’d done to trick you. I’m terribly sorry – I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t even know you were here – I thought they’d at least take you to your own room.’

‘But you didn’t bother to find out,’ Malvolio pointed out.

‘Well, no – I was afraid that if I came to visit, it might get you over-excited. Anyway, I’m here now to let you out.’

‘Uh – actually, my lady, you might prefer not to,’ said Malvolio, embarrassed. ‘They’ve tied me up, so I wasn’t able to get to the – I mean, I’ve been here since – when is it now, anyway?’

‘The day after I thought you’d gone mad and told Toby to look after you,’ said Olivia. ‘Did they even bring you anything to eat?’

‘No, my lady.’

‘Well, I’ll send…’ Olivia considered this for a moment, presumably reflecting that there were very few members of her household whom Malvolio had any reason to trust – ‘I’ve got Cesario, the Duke’s page-boy, with me now. Would it be all right if I send him to unbar the door and untie you, and to bring you some water to wash with and a fresh set of clothes? Would you like me to send some food down, too, or would you rather have lunch with Cesario and me, and Cesario’s brother? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.’

Malvolio considered this. ‘I think I’d rather have something to eat before I come to see you,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I can manage to be civilised company when I’m this hungry.’

A couple of hours later, Malvolio, clean and reasonably calm, rejoined them, and was introduced to Sebastian, now Olivia’s fiancé. 

‘Do you think you can stand having him as the new Count?’ Olivia asked. Viola was fairly sure that marrying a countess didn’t make you a count in Italy, but apparently it did in Illyria.

‘It’s your decision, my lady,’ said Malvolio stiffly.

‘Yes, but you’re allowed to have a personal opinion, you know.’

‘Well, my lady, my personal opinion is – that you could have done much worse.’

‘You mean, it could have been me?’ suggested Sir Andrew, who was still hanging around, as if he wasn’t sure where else to go.

‘Exactly.’

‘There is one other matter,’ said Viola. ‘When I came here today, I didn’t know about your – predicament. I’d come because a friend of mine, a sea-captain called Francisco, had been arrested because people seemed to think he’d committed a murder. I’m quite sure he hasn’t, but I wondered whether you knew anything about it?’

Malvolio realised that everyone was now looking at him. ‘I knew it wasn’t a real murder!’ he burst out. ‘I imagined that they’d investigate – or that the captain would confess his _real_ secret.’

‘What secret?’ asked Sir Andrew.

‘ _Cross-dressing!_ ’ hissed Malvolio. ‘On my way back, after I was made to run after Cesario here on an errand more befitting another page than a steward,’ (he glared at Viola as if he still hadn’t forgiven her for this – not that it had been Viola’s fault, but he couldn’t allow himself to be angry with his Countess), ‘I observed a sailor hiding, in a cleft between the rocks near the seashore, a dress and a long blonde wig. I thought it wrong to allow this abominable vice to continue any longer, especially in an officer who might have his crew at his mercy for months at a time on voyages, so I reported the incident to the Watch.’

‘You thought _Francisco_ was a transvestite?’ exclaimed Viola.

‘If that is his name, then yes. Who else’s could the items be?’

‘They’re mine, as it happens,’ said Viola. ‘I was wearing them when I was shipwrecked, and Francisco took charge of them to protect me.’

‘ _You’re_ a transvestite?’ exclaimed both Malvolio and Olivia.

‘For the last two months, yes. I’ve been going around disguised as a boy.’

‘He’s actually a eunuch,’ explained Sir Andrew.

‘Well, no, I’m actually a woman,’ Viola admitted.

‘She is,’ Sebastian confirmed.

‘You’re – the servant girl I talked to earlier?’ Malvolio asked.

‘That’s right,’ Viola admitted.

‘So a transvestite gave you your freedom, and you’ve slandered an innocent man,’ said Olivia. ‘Can you think of anything you can do to put things right?’

Malvolio bowed. ‘My lady Countess Olivia, and my lord-to-be nearly-Count Sebastian, do I have leave to visit the Watch House this afternoon? I have important information to pass on.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Olivia. ‘Would you like us to come with you?’

‘That would be – quite helpful,’ Malvolio admitted. ‘It’s been – a difficult couple of days, and – I’d rather not be alone, right now.’


	4. Chapter 4

So they all walked to the Watch House together, as it wasn’t far enough to be worth harnessing horses to a carriage. As they approached, they heard voices: ‘Well, your Grace, are you sure? Is this the man?’

‘Quite certain. When he last boarded one of my vessels, he wounded my nephew so badly that the young man had to have his leg cut off,’ said Orsino.

‘I recognise him, too, from the fight on the _Phoenix_ ,’ said Curio. He was a bit older than some of Orsino’s attendants, like Viola and Valentine, and had fought alongside his master in many battles.

‘It’s not true, my lord!’ cried Viola, rushing in. ‘Francisco’s an honest merchant who’s never fought anyone except pirates who attacked…’ at which she tailed off. The man handcuffed between two Watch officers wasn’t Francisco at all, but a stranger – a stranger who was staring at her with a mixture of recognition, love, hope, and concern. 

‘Sebastian?’ he said.

‘No, he’s my twin brother. We got separated in the shipwreck.’

‘Cesario?’ said Orsino, with nearly as much perplexity in his voice as the pirate.

‘I’m here, at your service, my lord. Uh – are you Antonio?’ she added to the pirate.

‘Yes. Is Sebastian all right?’

‘Yes, he’s well and happy and engaged to a countess. Ah, here they are.’ Malvolio opened the door, and held it courteously open for Olivia and Sebastian, and, more reluctantly, for Sir Andrew.

‘Wait, you mean – _this_ countess?’ said Orsino.

‘Yes,’ said Viola.

‘Engaged to your brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘After knowing him for how long?’

‘About half an hour,’ said Viola.

Olivia, radiant with joy as long as she was holding Sebastian’s hand, smiled apologetically at her three unsuccessful suitors. ‘We couldn’t bear to wait any longer,’ she said.

‘Olivia, this is Antonio, who saved my life,’ said Sebastian. ‘Antonio, do you need your wallet back? Is this about an unpaid fine, or something?’

‘No, it’s about piracy,’ Orsino pointed out.

‘I’m _not_ a pirate!’ protested Antonio. ‘It’s only piracy if I’m robbing ships from my own country. Robbing _you_ is privateering.’

‘He _did_ save my brother’s life, my lord,’ said Viola placatingly. ‘And if things had gone differently in the shipwreck, he might have been the one to save mine as well, or instead.’

‘Shipwreck? Was that this pirate’s doing as well?’ Orsino demanded.

‘No, my lord, just bad weather,’ Viola assured him. ‘Surely you remember that terrible storm a couple of months ago, just before I came to ask you for a job?’

‘Oh, yes – I wrote a sonnet about how it reflected the torrent of emotions in my heart,’ said Orsino, after considering this for a moment.

‘Couldn’t you issue a pardon?’ asked Olivia. ‘Or a lesser sentence, at any rate?’

‘On what grounds?’ retorted Orsino. ‘Because he saved the life of someone who went on to marry the woman I was in love with?’

‘Maybe because you want the Countess Olivia to be happy?’ suggested Viola. ‘And because she wouldn’t be happy, if her marriage was overshadowed by the death of her husband’s friend?’

‘And because you wouldn’t be happy, either, if your brother was grieving for his friend?’ added Orsino tenderly, lowering his hand to ruffle Viola’s short hair. (Valentine winked at Curio, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’)

‘Well, I wouldn’t be,’ Viola admitted.

‘And this is why you came, was it? All of you? To plead with me to overturn the rule of law for reasons of private sentiment?’

‘Well, actually, no,’ Viola admitted. ‘We came here to plead for a completely different captain.’

One of the Watch officers noticed Malvolio. ‘Oh, I’m glad you could make it. We’ve still been waiting for your evidence about that other sailor, but when you didn’t turn up, we thought maybe you were ill.’

‘Ah, well, that was part of the problem,’ said Malvolio, with a look of becoming embarrassment. ‘I’d been – checking that all the food for the Countess’s forthcoming wedding was of superior quality, and I decided to sample the flavour of one of the mushrooms. Shortly afterwards, I began seeing all kinds of strange things, and I do dimly recall coming into the Watch House to report them. It took me a couple of days to recover, but I’m back to normal now.’

The Watchmen sniggered. ‘Are you sure it was the mushrooms, not the wine?’ said one of them.

‘ _Quite_ sure,’ said Malvolio, with the air of a man carefully not clarifying whether ‘quite’ means ‘entirely’ or ‘moderately’. ‘At any rate, I have come to apologise for wasting your time, and to ask for Captain Francisco’s release, if there is no other evidence against him.’

Viola glanced in astonishment at Olivia, who looked equally baffled. When dignity meant everything to Malvolio, and being thought to be insane or deluded was the worst horror he could endure, why would he invent a story like this, of all things? And then Viola realised. What really meant everything to Malvolio was being in control. If he had come to understand what he had done to poor Francisco, he could take it upon himself to punish himself. And if he was the one claiming to have been temporarily hallucinating, then it wasn’t an indignity that someone else was inflicting on him, so he could ensure that the punishment wasn’t more than he could bear.

‘It was a mistake that could have happened to anyone,’ said Olivia. ‘He’s back to his normal, reliable self now. And my steward doesn’t drink to excess – unlike _some_ people,’ she added, with a sharp glance at Sir Andrew, who meekly bowed his head.

‘I’m not supposed to leave this room,’ said the guard on desk duty. ‘And these other two are a bit tied up,’ he pointed out, indicating the pair with Antonio handcuffed between them.

‘I’ll keep an eye on him,’ offered Sebastian. ‘It can’t really need all of you to restrain one man, surely? You’ve already taken his weapons from him, and there are…’ he glanced around at the Duke and his attendants, and at Viola and finally at Sir Andrew,’ six of us with swords in here.’ Admittedly, that wasn’t the same as six trained fighting men. Viola had done a little fencing practice, both with the Duke’s other servants and with Orsino himself, since her arrival, and she knew that Orsino and Curio were expert fighters, and Valentine wasn’t bad, either. She had picked up a little experience, but not enough to be much use in a real fight, and Sir Andrew was so uncoordinated that he was doing well if he could manage to walk in a straight line. Sebastian himself, she knew, was a formidable opponent. Malvolio, like the rest of Olivia’s servants, didn’t habitually carry a sword as part of his usual duties.

At the moment, though, Antonio didn’t seem to be in any mood to offer the fight. Unshackled from one of the guards, he did nothing more warlike than shake Sebastian’s hand and say, ‘Congratulations on your engagement. I – hope you’ll be very happy.’

‘About the money you lent me…’ Sebastian began, but Antonio shook his head.

‘Keep it, keep it! I don’t think I’m likely to get the chance to spend it.’

The other guard returned with Captain Francisco, who stared with delight and relief at the sight of both Sebastian and Viola alive and well, which turned into shock when he recognised Antonio.

‘Sebastian! Don’t you know better than to make friends with a pirate like this?’

‘Pirate yourself!’ retorted Antonio. ‘You’ve sunk two of my ships so far, to my sinking one of yours!’

‘Which one are you on at the moment?’

‘ _Dragon III_. Beautiful vessel – you haven’t seen her yet, have you? Course you haven’t – you’re still alive.’

‘Get through the last storm, did she?’

‘Oh, yes – she’s sturdy enough to survive the end of the world. Mind you, I _did_ have the sense to stay out of the worst of the storm. From what Sebastian told me, your _Cat II_ broke up without my needing to touch her.’

‘What do you want us to do with these men, your Grace?’ asked one of the guards.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Orsino, pulling himself together. ‘Antonio, in recognition of your magnanimity in saving a drowning man’s life, your life is to be spared. _However_ , as punishment for your many acts of robbery, malicious wounding, and destruction of property, your ship, the _Dragon III_ , is confiscated, to be given to Captain Francisco in recompense for his wrongful imprisonment.’

Both captains began, ‘But what about my crew?...’ and stopped, embarrassed, and then both were struggling not to laugh.

‘Sort it out between the two of you,’ said Orsino. ‘In the meantime, I don’t think we need to stay here any longer.’

So the now rather larger group of eight men, one acknowledged woman, and one undetermined, made their way out.

‘My lord,’ said Viola when they were outside, ‘I must admit that when I set out this morning to look for Captain Francisco, it wasn’t just because I was worried about him. It was more that – I had something to confess, and I needed a witness who could confirm it. I didn’t expect to have _two_ : the Captain and my brother.’

‘What sort of confession?’ Orsino sounded alarmed.

‘Well, when I swore my loyalty oath to you, swearing that I was a freeborn man – well, I _am_ freeborn, but – I’m a woman.’

Orsino blinked in surprise. Valentine and Curio didn’t, but watched their master closely to see his reaction. ‘ _Seriously?_ ’ said Orsino at last.

(‘You owe me five ducats,’ whispered Valentine to Curio. ‘I told you he hadn’t worked it out yet.’)

Orsino was clearly busy turning things over in his mind. ‘So – when you said that the – person you loved – was about my age, and my height, and with the same hair colour – and that they didn’t return your affection…’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘How would you feel if they did?’

‘Well, I’d be very glad, of course – if I could be sure they really meant it. But, if they’d been in love with someone else until recently, I wouldn’t be sure they could change direction so suddenly.’

‘I suspect,’ said Orsino, ‘that your beloved had been – trying not to accept that they were falling in love with you, because their love seemed even more hopeless – or even wrong or improper – than yours did.’

(‘You owe me five ducats,’ whispered Curio. ‘I told you he was in love with her.’)

‘Do you think my love and I ought to take more time to get to know each other?’ Viola asked.

‘Possibly,’ said Orsino reluctantly.

‘Perhaps Sebastian and I ought not to hurry, either,’ said Olivia, who didn’t sound at all convinced.

‘My lady,’ said Malvolio, ‘may I remind you that your cousin Sir Toby and his bride got married and set off on their honeymoon only this morning? Could I suggest that a wedding might be well ornamented by the absence of Sir Toby?’

Olivia laughed. ‘ _That_ is a very good point,’ she said. ‘All right, Malvolio, can you organise a priest and a wedding reception by tomorrow.’

‘Certainly, my lady. For one wedding or two?’

Viola marvelled at how quickly Malvolio had got over his own disappointment. She had wondered whether his experience of being locked up had been so humiliating that he wouldn’t be able to bear continuing at the Countess Olivia’s household, and whether she ought to ask Orsino to offer him a job. But he quite evidently adored Olivia and wanted to be with her in whatever context was possible. He had auditioned for the role of Count, but if that part had already been cast, he was happy to assume his accustomed role of faithful retainer.

The joint wedding took place the following afternoon. Viola was married, not in the dress she had been shipwrecked in, which had not been improved by its drenching in saltwater, but in the beautiful silk wedding dress that Orsino’s mother had been married in. Olivia had ensured that Malvolio, after he had given final instructions for the preparation of lunch, had the rest of the day off, so that he could attend the wedding and the reception as a guest rather than as a servant. Sir Andrew, who had unexpectedly turned out to be a talented musician, had been offered a job as one of Orsino’s attendants, but they had agreed that he wasn’t going to take up the position until the next day, so that he, too, was there as a guest. Fabian was pointedly _not_ invited, and neither was Feste, who seemed to have disappeared for the time being anyway. As Olivia said, he’d turn up again when he felt like it.

Sir Andrew had pawned some of his clothes and jewellery to pay off his debts, but he had given one piece to Malvolio, as an apology for all the trouble they had caused him. It was a golden ring, shaped like the head of a snarling hound, with tiny rubies for eyes. Somehow, it seemed attractively offset by Malvolio’s austere black clothes (no sign of yellow stockings, cross-gartered or otherwise), rather than discordant. Sir Andrew must have realised that considering how expensive really black dye was, anyone who took the trouble, on a steward’s wages, to afford clothes of deep black, and in good-quality cloth, evidently had a vain streak, and would probably like to have at least some pretty jewellery to wear. Malvolio seemed delighted with it, and, even as he walked up the nave with Olivia to hand her over to Sebastian, kept running a forefinger over the hound’s smoothly shaped ears.

By the reception, Malvolio and Sir Andrew were busy talking to each other in low voices, with the word ‘revenge’ coming up several times. Sir Andrew, who had had quite a lot to drink, was giggling uncontrollably. Malvolio tried to look dour and solemn, but he couldn’t restrain his own face from occasionally breaking into a wolfish smirk. It wasn’t the smile of a man who is trying to be charming, but the grin of a not very nice man who is amused by the sort of things that other people wouldn’t find very funny. But it was real, and honest – and right now, Viola thought, this was probably what he needed. At least he was no longer alone.


End file.
